mais oui
by notapepper
Summary: Paris. A café. And, of course, FitzSimmons. (One-shot.)


The evening sun sparkled over the rooftops, but nothing could shine as brightly as the woman sitting across from him, snickering into the back of her hand.

"Wait, so you just… _left_?" Her expression was the lovechild of sympathy and hilarity.

"Well, yeah— I mean, I helped her install the closet organizer, but then I left, yeah."

" _Fitz!_ "

"I know," he groaned. "Believe me, I felt dead foolish the next day. But I couldn't very well go back to her room and say, 'Oh, sorry, did you mean to seduce me?'"

Jemma's eyes twinkled. "And you didn't think it was the _slightest_ bit suspicious that she'd taken off her trousers to check _if the hangers were the right width_?"

"Look, you." He shot her a mock glare. "We can't all pick up on every tiny, little, subtle flirting hint—"

"Subtle!" Jemma snorted, nearly choking on her biscotti.

"—not as if the girls were breakin' down my door back then—"

"—all the women who asked me for your numbe—"

"—always with _you_ , so th—"

"—so grumpy; just as well, we didn't need the distractio—"

"—probably thought I was your gay best friend or someth—"

"—wait, what?"

"What?" he finished at the same time.

They stared at each other for a moment, until roses bloomed on Jemma's cheeks and she needed to look down. "Ah, well," she murmured. "I'm glad you never got snapped up by some girl at the Academy."

He smiled and reached over. "I wouldn't exactly say that."

Fitz twined their fingers together, trying not to stare. The flock of birds in his chest wanted to whoop out an adoring cacophony, but he managed to keep himself to a single, marathon-winning bark of laughter.

Her eyebrow crooked the question.

"Nothing," he dissembled. "Just never thought I'd be here, that's all."

"Paris?" She turned towards the Eiffel Tower, rising magnificently in the distance. "I have to admit, with all the time we spend on airplanes, I'd hoped we'd get a chance to explore it before now." Sinking back into her chair with a dreamy sigh, Jemma's gaze drifted out to the bustling streets below.

 _Of course not bloody Paris._ He didn't give two farts where they were; Jemma Simmons was his _girlfriend_ , and if they were sitting in quicksand it would still be the highlight of his entire pasty life. But she was enjoying herself too much for him to spoil it. Instead, he raised his teacup, inviting her to join him in a toast.

"To the best year of my life."

"To the last twelve of mine," she bragged happily, taking a sip.

The chuckle bubbling up in his throat fought with the scoff. "Everything's a competition with you, isn't it?"

She shrugged, eyes a tad too wide for honesty. "I only meant that I value _all_ the years of our friendship, not just the one in which we've been—" her voice lowered as mischief overtook propriety.

"Jemma!"

"—if you'll pardon my French," she finished. _Thinks she's so cute._

Okay, so maybe she was at least nine times cuter than anyone else on the planet, but even so, that pun deserved a groan.

"All right, then." He faced her squarely. "If you value our friendship so much, why is it _I've_ got you a present and you're sittin' there empty-handed?"

Her mouth set into a disbelieving line. "Fitz! You didn't."

He smirked. "Oh, I did." He tipped his chin in a show of nonchalance. "Maybe I just love you more."

She scrunched her nose. "I'm going to get you back, you know."

"Obviously."

Her fingers began an eager tap dance against the tabletop. "So what is it?"

"See for yourself." He placed a jewelry box on her napkin, watching the way her throat jumped under her skin.

"Fitz…" Jemma faced him, a blur of dazzling teeth and quick eyelashes.

"Just open it."

Jemma carefully pulled up the top of the small cardboard box and for a second, just a fraction of a second really, he might've seen a granule of disappointment flash across her cheeks. "Oh my…" She lifted the necklace off the batting with a whispered, "This is _lovely_."

"Yeah?" His schoolboy grin darted across the table and found a home on her lips. "I managed to track down one bead of every metal and precious stone on Earth. Thought you might like somethin' to put under your microscope when you're feeling bored. Well, nothing dangerous like gravitonium," he downplayed, "because we wouldn't want you floatin' off and tippin' lorries and whatnot." He stood and walked around to stand by her chair, taking the necklace so she could hold her hair while he did the clasp. "But I finally got my hands on a bit of spare vibranium last week, so here you are."

"I love it, Fitz, truly." She let her curls drop and grabbed his palm, pulling him down for a brief but heartfelt kiss. "Where did you find all the materials?" She ran her fingertips over the twisted strands, still beaming up at him. "It must have taken you ages!"

"Actually, I… _didn't_ find them all," he confessed. "There's, ah, there's still one stone that necklace doesn't have."

 _Time to level up._

"Fitz, what's—" She swallowed at the expression on his face, and when she spoke again, her voice was glossy with hopeful tears. "What's missing from it?"

Fitz got down on one knee. "A diamond."

~fin~

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

So the proposal was proabably not a surprise to anyone, but, who cares, right? Hehehe. Also, if you like quality reading material and general good times, you should check out memorizingthedigitsofpi on tumblr, who inspired this drabble.

And now I really _should_ go sort out my priorities instead of spending all my time writing ridiculously OTT fluff for these two science dorks.

:-D

Hope you liked it!


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